


Sprouting Confessions

by hideyoshi



Series: Soumako OneShots [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Language of Flowers, Love Confessions, M/M, flowershop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideyoshi/pseuds/hideyoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto goes to a flowershop to get a gift for a friend. Then he comes back again.... and again and again and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sprouting Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Let's all just take a moment to think about big ol' Sousuke taking care of delicate little flowers tyvm

A short, dusty fan rattled loudly in the corner of a homely flower shop, its soft winds swirling above petals of varying hues, smaller ones quivering about stronger stems. Like the vibrant foliage, dark stems danced on a still scalp and a stiller face. Cerulean eyes dripping grey with boredom stared vaguely at newly sprouted flowers, gauging their heights absentmindedly.  


A sharp array of tings sounded at the door and Sousuke lifted his head to acknowledge the visitor. He nodded briefly to a boy in loose clothing, immediately taking note of the vivid color of the stranger’s eyes and how much the newly sprouted leaves matched the ones growing under the man's tan lids.  


Ignoring any further observations of his, Sousuke refocused on the task at hand, recording each buds’ progress carefully.  


“Cute.” A soft voice chimed so close it set Sousuke’s shoulders off in springing motion. Yet, even with that and the prompt jerk of head to meet the alleged aggressor, Sousuke’s face remained carefully neutral.  


The man before him held an expression he would describe the same way he would a breeze pulling at tulips in summer. Easy smile and comfortable eyes hanging onto immature leaves like one would look at a sleeping child’s hands.  


When Sousuke failed to respond, the customer turned his gaze towards the man he sat crouched next to expectantly.  


“Oh, uh… Yeah, these are just gonna be some lilies; nothing fancy.”  


The brunet hummed and stared back down at the sprouts. His eyes spotted a patch of taller sprouts on the shelf just above and lifted a tan finger gently.  


“What about these?” His head tilted back to Sousuke quizzically.  


“Goldenrods.”  


“These?”  


“Peonies.”  


The customer continued to point flower to flower as Sousuke listed them off one by one, until the long tan digit stretched in his direction. Confused, Sousuke glanced behind him in search for some mystery flower that may have somehow snuck up on him.  


The customer’s pleasant smile widened at Sousuke’s befuddlement and pointed his finger more adamantly, making contact with the center of a rather broad chest.  


Thick black eyebrows rose in his realization and he opened his mouth to speak.  


“Oh. Yamazaki… Sousuke.”  


“Tachibana Makoto, it’s nice to meet you Yamazaki-san.”  


“Just Sousuke is fine.”  


“Then Makoto is fine for me as well.”  


The brunet’s eyes closed and his head tilted right into a barely bloomed tiger lily. Sousuke’s hand flew immediately to separate chestnut locks from orange petals, gently pushing Makoto’s head back into a safe position.  


“Well, Makoto, try not to smash up the flowers on your first visit, alright?”  


Makoto laughed sheepishly, his confident finger turning bashful as it scratched absentmindedly at his cheek.  


“Uhm so, I need a bouquet for a friend’s birthday. Do you happen to have anything for that?”  


Sousuke rose to his feet, with Makoto quickly following suit.  


“We don’t have any pre-made bouquets for specific occasions, but you can see if any of the ones we have are to your liking. If not, you can just make your own and I’ll slap a Happy Birthday ribbon on it.”  


Green eyes shone with a near naive jubilance, “That would be great! This way it’ll be much more personal.”  


Sousuke cursed the involuntary twitch that pulled his lip upwards at the sight of the pleased young man in front of him. And while Sousuke’s eyes were forcing a nonchalante interest in the tiled flooring, Makoto’s were searching over extensive shelves nervously for the perfect flower arrangement.  


“Uhh, hahah, I’m not really sure where to begin,” Makoto admitted sheepishly.  


Sousuke forged ahead into the aisle of flowers, not looking at the customer while he spoke, “Well, it’s a birthday, so it should be bright, yeah?”  


“Yes, definitely!” Makoto agreed eagerly, “My friend is very energetic and optimistic so the bigger and brighter, the better.”  


The two men then worked together to form one of the most bold and intricate bouquets that Sousuke had ever seen, much less created. Each flower was accompanied by its own outlandish story of the brunet’s eccentric friend, showing off the depth of his memory.  


With the ding of the register and promises of “See you around,” the customer left. In his absence, Sousuke felt the heavy silence of the flower shop weigh down on him and his smile quickly faded back to its neutral, displeased position.

\---

A few days later, Makoto returned to the flower shop. He told Sousuke all about the extravagant party and how much his friend, named Nagisa, had absolutely adored the flowers. And, oh, there’s another birthday he needs a bouquet for. Oddly enough, this friend came with significantly less stories and it seemed like Makoto could hardly remember the name. It was pretty obvious, to Sousuke at least, that Makoto cared much less about this friend than he did Nagisa. But Sousuke helped him build a simple bouquet without complaint and sent the brunet off again to resume counting the minutes till close.  


And a few days later, Makoto came back with a new obscure friend’s birthday that he just must get a bouquet for. Again and again he came, each time talking less and less about whatever friend he had and more about Sousuke. What he liked, what he disliked, where he grew up, his favorite color. Sousuke reflected on this attentive nature when Makoto had left, thinking that must be why the guy had an endless list of friends (with very close birthdays).  


It never occurred to Sousuke that Makoto may have a very small apartment room filled to the brim with bouquets labeled with the names of strangers.

\---

Familiar tan limbs entered the shop, clad in a faded blue button down and cinnamon trousers.  


“Another birthday?” Sousuke guessed.  


“Ah, well, actually this - it’s, well, it’s something else…” Makoto’s struggle caused Sousuke to raise an eyebrow.  


“Funeral?”  


“No, no, nothing that sad!” Makoto waved his hands, but his arms stayed rigid at his sides and a pink flush started blooming on his cheeks.  


Sousuke stepped out from behind the counter that separated them and approached Makoto.  


“So, what exactly are we dealing with here?”  


“U-Uhm, do you know about flower language?”  


“No, Makoto, I work in a bakery and shove baguettes up my ass. Of course I know what flower language is, why?”  


Makoto let out a measly laugh at the sarcastic comment, but his eyes remained interested in anything and everything except Sousuke’s.  


“Well, I was kinda thinking… I want to confess to someone and I-I think it’d be really nice to do it with a meaningful bouquet. So, uh, do you have any flowers that’ll express, um, l-like love and stuff?”  


Sousuke chuckled lightly, “Yeah man, you’re not the first one to ask for a confession bouquet.”  


The black-haired man walked along one of the aisles of flowers and began picking out flowers; pink, white, indigo, yellow. All the while Sousuke prodded Makoto for information on his crush, whom he avoided naming.  


It didn’t take long for Sousuke to finish making the simple bouquet and hand it to a Makoto who was failing quite miserably at not being flustered.  


“Th-thank you so much! I’ll, um, see you later, then!”  


Makoto rushed out of the flower shop without another word and Sousuke figured he must be eager to confess that day.  


Then Sousuke was thinking about Makoto confessing, holding the bouquet out to a (possibly) unsuspecting crush. How the man’s face would light up with joy if they accepted, or how his smile would break if he was rejected. Before he knew it, Sousuke was rooting for Makoto, even if he secretly wished to keep those rosy cheeks to himself.  


Sousuke settled back on his stool behind the counter and began counting again. Two, three, four, if flowers had feelings you think they would-  


His thoughts were interrupted by the chime of the door and hurried footsteps carrying a -somehow even more than before- flustered Makoto.  


Sousuke’s eyebrows raised at the dramatic entrance, but before he could question it Makoto began speaking.  


“Y-Yamazaki Sousuke,” Makoto squeaked, his elbows locked as shaky hands thrust the bouquet in the employee’s direction.  


The twisted look on Makoto’s face made Sousuke even more confused than he already was.  


“Is it… bad?” Sousuke asked, stepping closer to Makoto as if less proximity would answer his question.  


Makoto’s lips pulled tighter and he glanced at the floor, quickly snapping viridescent eyes back up to pierce into cerulean ones.  


“I like you!” The brunet practically shouted as he shoved the flowers more incessantly at Sousuke.  


Then Makoto let out a loud screech and dropped the bouquet onto the counter.  


“Oh, but if you’re not gay that's completely fine too!” Makoto’s hands flew to the sides of his petrified face, muttering, “oh I didn't even consider that…”  


Sousuke watched the spectacle with wide eyes before sighing heavily and lifting the discarded bouquet with one hand.  


“Y’know, Makoto, I worked pretty fucking hard on this bouquet. And here you come droppin’ it all over the counter, ruining all my hard work,” he sighed more dramatically this time, “Now I gotta go make a new one.”  


Sousuke walked around the counter and made his way towards the aisles of flowers while Makoto lowered his hands, eyes following the other man’s movements closely.  


Sousuke paused and turned towards Makoto, sticking a finger out in his direction.  


“Eyes shut,” he instructed the brunet laconically.  


It took one embarrassing minute for the words to sink in and Makoto shut his eyes tight, holding his hands militantly by his sides.  


A few torturous minutes passed before Sousuke returned to Makoto’s side with a new bouquet of flowers.  


“Open.”  


Makoto opened his eyes to where Sousuke presented a slanted smile and the grouped flowers in front of him.  


“What does it mean?”  


“Acceptance… And some other stuff too, but pretty much just the acceptance thing.”  


Makoto beamed.  


“Would you take the freaking flowers already, I’m gonna puke if this gets any cheesier.”  


Makoto’s smile became impossibly bigger as he reached out for the simple bouquet, holding it delicately in his hands.  


“Oh, hold on,” Sousuke said, reaching around the counter and pulling out a short piece of paper and a pen.  


He scribbled something quickly on the sheet and stuffed it between green, pointed stems. Then he topped it off by wrapping a thin blue ribbon around it, lightly grazing Makoto’s hands in the process. Sousuke smiled fully when he looked back up at Makoto.  


The next time Makoto walked into the flowershop there was a simple bouquet sitting in a small, glass vase all by itself in the center of a cream-colored counter. Beside it, a bored employee sat on a stool, staring at the bouquet with a droopy smile splayed across his face.


End file.
